


Gentle and Rough

by Corseque (Besagew)



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Communication, Dream Sex, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff, Gentle Sex, Hair Pulling, Kink Negotiation, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-30
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2021-01-13 06:20:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21239585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Besagew/pseuds/Corseque
Summary: She wants bruises. Something to keep with her later, something to press her fingers against and remember how rough he had been, that he wanted her desperately enough to leave fingerprints on her skin. She wants this wise man to lose control because of her.Solas is passionate and overwhelming, but never crosses the bounds of perfect care with her. He never even nears them. He is good at sex, careful and deliberate, and he would never do anything to hurt her or control her—And it would be terrible of her to ask him to make love to her so opposite to the way he obviously prefers. Wouldn’t it?(Lavellan wants Solas to be rough with her. Fill for a kink meme prompt)





	Gentle and Rough

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fill for a prompt on the kink meme about Solas and Lavellan and rough sex, and I really got carried away, wondering how that dynamic would work, and how exactly I see their dynamic. It was also one of my first attempts at fanfic in many years, so it’s a little rough, but enjoy.

They are in the Hissing Wastes when they overhear Iron Bull talking about tying Dorian up during sex.

"I'm telling you, you’d feel good.” Iron Bull is speaking quietly beyond the moonlit sandy ridge, carried back to them on the wind. "All tied up and helpless, just waiting to be plundered and taken."

Dorian splutters. "Yes, fine! I'm on board with it! But perhaps this would be best discussed later."

Lavellan looks anywhere but at Solas, her face burning.

"It's not about the kind of restraint, you know. Silk, rope, iron chains, even being held down manually - what you use isn't that important. You can work with whatever. What matters is that it's a restraint." 

"That's good to hear," Dorian says weakly.

"It's all about power dynamics," Iron Bull continues, "and asking someone powerful and strong to take complete control of you for just a little while. To let them do whatever they want to you. And then you get fucked. Hard. Sexually."

"One wonders if our ears asked for similar treatment," Solas murmurs to her, his voice as dry as the sand around them.

Lavellan covers her mouth to muffle a laugh.

"This desert is ghastly," Dorian says loudly. "I know I've said it before, but we must be nearly at the unspeakable buttocks of the world, a place no thinking creature was ever meant to go." 

And Dorian complains about the weather for several more minutes just to be sure the topic is thoroughly changed.

Lavellan thanks the gods that they're traveling during the cool of night and no one can see her blushing. Even so, she hangs behind to give her a moment to regain her composure. All the talk about controlling, rough sex... listening to that kind of thing with Solas right beside her makes her blush all the way down to her toes.

Not that she and Solas had never had sex before - they have, and do, as often as they can afford leisure time to it. 

Solas makes love with a slow delicious intensity that catches her breath. Being together with him is always dreamlike and otherworldly, a dance they know by heart, somehow, floating in tenderness and undulating tides of pleasure. As if they're both caught in a beautiful dream, even when they aren't asleep. 

He's so gentle and considerate toward her, above all things. Whenever they seemed about to race toward fiercer, darker passions, Solas has always slowed them both. They've savored each other. And so, he has never once been rough with her, in bed or elsewhere, in word or deed.

She's not blushing because she doesn't know what sex with Solas is like. She's blushing because Solas has always been perfectly gentle with her, but sometimes she thinks about asking him not to be.

Solas is so ferocious when he argues, and when he attacks in the heat of battle. She's heard him growl at a Venatori that made the mistake of coming too near to her. And yet, after the heat of the moment, his viciousness disappears like mist at sunrise. 

She can't help but wonder about that ferocity in their bed. There is a fierce darkness in him, hidden behind the wise man's face he shows the world. If she drew that away... would he burn for her? Not dreaming and tender, but rough and wide awake?

Lavellan glances at Solas. His hands grip the reigns of his hart, his fingers firm and skillful.

A jolt of lust shoots through her. Would his fingers grip her hair the same way?

She wants them to.

She wants him to just grasp her in his hands, hard enough to leave bruises on her hips. She wants bruises, she thinks. Something to keep with her later, something to press her fingers against and remember how rough he had been, that he wanted her desperately enough to leave fingerprints on her skin... She would like to see this wise man lose control because of her.

She tries to imagine him growling harsh commands in her ear, and feels a thrill, but then shakes her head because she can't quite picture it. The fact remains that Solas is passionate and overwhelming, but never crosses the bounds of perfect care with her. He never even nears them. He is good at sex, careful and deliberate, and he would never do anything to hurt her or control her—

And it would be terrible of her to ask him to make love to her so opposite to the way he obviously prefers.

Wouldn’t it?

Solas always reacts with the driest mockery whenever the group’s conversation changes to bondage or wild, painful sex. Every single time, he’s stopped the conversation in its tracks. Is it because he thinks it's impolite to talk about rough sex in company, or because he thinks that type of lovemaking is degrading and beneath him? 

She thinks it must be the latter.

If she asks him to be rough with her, there’s a chance he would turn cold and condescending, shocked and betrayed that she would ask such a thing of him. Just imagining the look on his face, if she ever told him, makes her want to hide.

Solas turns to glance back at her, and Lavellan gives him what she hopes is a casual smile.

_I can order men into battle_, she thinks wryly, _but I can’t bring myself to ask my lover to pin me down and bite me hard. There might be something hopelessly wrong with me._

Lavellan shakes her head and tries to put it out of her mind. Better to keep it to herself. There’s no helping it, and no use dwelling on it. Besides, there are things that are infinitely more important to her than kinky sex, and Solas’ comfort is higher on the list.

She would not trade the world for his growing trust in her.

—

It turns out that she doesn’t quite manage to put sex entirely out of her mind. She’s still worked to distraction by thoughts of him, so when they finally stop to camp at sunrise and settle down to sleep during the heat of the day, Lavellan lays out next to Solas on their bedroll and nearly accosts him as soon as she drops off into the Fade. 

Lavellan finds him in a dream version of the same desert, standing alone on a ridge and watching green streaks of the Fade paint the sky.

Lavellan likes to surprise him in dreams. She wonders idly if it’s possible to shock a Dreamer enough to wake them from the Fade.

She smiles to herself, and slips up behind him to slide her arms around his waist, and casually brushes her hands down to cup his cock.

He stiffens in surprise, and then relaxes against her, touching her forearms and breathing a laugh. “Are you feeling eager, my love?”

“Hmm,” she says. “I spent all night behaving myself. When I come across a handsome man in my dreams, I don’t question it.”

“It is wise to seize such opportunities,” he says. And then his laugh turns to a groan as her hand works him. Her other hand strokes up his stomach. She presses her cheek into his back, just feeling his warmth. He lets her stroke him for long, lingering moments, in the Fade on that high cliff.

“Vhenan,” he whispers finally, voice thick.

He turns in her arms, pressing up against her. He catches her up in a kiss that is slow and pregnant with feeling. Their dream-clothes melt away - maybe they never really existed - and then he grasps her and they join together easily, perfectly.

She gasps at the slow intensity of it, the strangeness of feeling him in dreams. Their emotions are just as real in the Fade as they are. As they touch, skin on skin, the more it becomes unreal, the more it’s like touching his soul.

She loves him, she thinks. And in this place, she can feel his love for her.

But there is no true ground, no place to anchor herself to except for him, and it’s like they’re both being swept away into pure feeling. She can’t hold onto him, but he’s everywhere, lips and hands and cock, and it’s so good.

It doesn’t have a beginning or end. Time loses meaning - it runs slow like the tide, it rushes like a wave. His thrusts are like the beat of her heart, slow and deep within her.

A part of her. Gentle and endless, no climax and no end. 

_We’ll be like this forever_, she thinks. Or is that _his_ thought, him whispering his wish to her? _Just like this. Bellanaris, vhenan._

She comes awake, gasping for air, reaching out desperately to hold onto anything real.

Solas is still asleep beside her, his head pillowed under one arm. He looks peaceful.

Lavellan knows he prefers sex in the Fade. He’s told her he feels more comfortable there, the place he’s spent most of his life. The place where, as a Dreamer mage, he can manipulate the world around him to be exactly as he wishes.

She colors at the thought that his wish seems to be that they remain together always.

She doesn’t know what preferring being in the Fade says about him, or if his preference even has a deeper meaning. Doing it in the Fade really is incredible, and they’ve spent many nights together there, happily tumbling in dreams. 

But sometimes when she wakes from it, especially if she wakes up without him, she feels strangely abandoned. Afterward, there is no sign he has ever touched her. He doesn’t leave his seed inside her. She can’t feel the echoes of his touch anywhere.

_It’s the type of thing that you could wake up from and ignore it as if it had never happened_, she thinks. _Just a dream that disappears at dawn._

Not that he would ever do that. Solas isn’t the type of person who would ever do that—he takes even dreams seriously.

But it doesn’t change how it feels, sometimes.

Her breathing finally calms, and her heart slows down. She drops back down next to him and presses her face into his chest, wrapping an arm tightly around him.

They've just gotten into the habit of having sex in the Fade while they travel, for privacy and ease. She'll ask him to have sex with her outside the Fade more often, she decides. He'd be more than willing to oblige her.

As she falls back into sleep she thinks, _Maybe if he would be rough with me, I wouldn't wake up lost like that again._

—

She drops into a deep, unfocused sleep until the evening. She doesn’t join him in the Fade again, and what dreams she remembers are hazy and frustrated.

The sounds of camp breaking and people talking surround their tent on all sides, but she doesn’t truly wake up until Solas gently shakes her calf. She blinks up at him as he pulls on his rough green coat. 

“It is colder than it was last night,” he says quietly. “Will you need a cloak unpacked?”

A warmth goes through her at his thoughtfulness, even through her grogginess. “I don’t think so,” she answers after a few moments. “I was sweating last night.”

His smile is teasing. “And more than sweating, it would seem.”

“Well.” Curse her skin tone, always giving her away by turning bright red. “Yes. Well, the desert seems to bring out the worst in me.”

Solas pretends to give that some thought. “I believe ‘worst’ is a matter of opinion.”

“Was I not terrible?” she asks him, taking his hand to help herself up. Then she can’t help but slide her hands up his arms, and circle his neck, hugging him in the cooling air.

“It depends on the definition of the word,” he answers diplomatically, holding her.

“Then let me define it for you,” she says in his ear. “Terrible, as in — insatiable and voracious.”

“An interesting definition,” he says. “It must be a new one, since I have not encountered it before. But I will take your word for it. If “terrible” means my heart acting on her desires, then she must be terrible.”

She laughs. Oh, but what she wouldn’t give for the leisure time to convince him back into bed.

Someone begins to take down the tent right next to theirs, chatting loudly over the sound of folding canvas.

She stiffens, and pulls back from him with a sigh.

Some of her great frustration must show in her face, because he pulls her back just far enough to kiss her cheek. “I wish to have only _terrible_ dreams for the rest of my life, vhenan,” he says to her, full of tenderness and heat. 

Then he steps out of the tent, leaving her blushing and frozen in place, staring at the tent flap. After a moment, she jolts, and scrambles around the tent, trying to find her clothes.

It’s not fair. Who gave him the right to be so… so unexpectedly smooth? Who said that was allowed?

Creators, she wants him. How she can still feel that way even with sand grit in odd places is beyond her, but it’s true. She’s going to hunt the dream man down and debauch him in the real world if it’s the last thing she does. She clenches her fist in her shirt, then pulls it on her head. 

It’s a promise. She’s going to do it.

**Author's Note:**

> The second chapter will be the last chapter... will Lavellan be honest about her needs? And how will Solas react? Will she ever get to debauch the dream man? Who knows? (I know)


End file.
